


No Trouble

by Laylah



Category: Magna Carta: Tears of Blood
Genre: Community: fic_on_demand, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My friends will come for me," he says. He tries to keep a straight face. "General Agreian will come for me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Trouble

It's always good to come back to headquarters after a mission. Real beds to sleep in, decent food instead of trail rations, the chance to relax without the regulars giving them shit all the time.

And sometimes, if he's lucky, a visit from the general.

Calintz takes his leave of the other guys downstairs, and heads up to his room. He's unslung his sword already, carrying it instead of wearing it against his hip, and he's looking forward to the hot bath he can probably have tonight before he crawls into his own bed for the first time in weeks. He opens the door to his room, the hinges turning smoothly, and steps inside. Everything is just as he left it, nothing disturbed -- and yet something feels _off_, just enough to give him pause, as if --

The hard lacquer of Agreian's armor-blade presses against his throat. "You're losing your touch, my captain."

Calintz's mouth feels dry all at once. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he says, and manages to swallow the 'sir' before he can voice it. They're supposed to be equals, in private.

"Mmm, I'd just -- I'd hate to see you taken unawares by someone less scrupulous," Agreian says. His free hand slides down Calintz's arm to take his sword.

"I promise," Calintz says, breathing in the scents of leather and parchment that follow Agreian, "anyone but you would find me more difficult to take."

Agreian laughs. "But you'll give me no trouble? I should take advantage of that." For a moment he fumbles with something behind Calintz's back, and then he takes his blade from Calintz's throat to reach down with both hands and pull Calintz's wrists together at the small of his back. He wraps something around Calintz's wrists -- the silken cord from his sword-hilt, Calintz realizes as one of the tassels brushes his palm -- and ties them there.

Calintz tugs on the binding -- he could pull free of it, he thinks, if he tried hard, but with Agreian he doubts he'll need to. He looks back over his shoulder. "Planning to hold me for ransom?"

"Perhaps," Agreian says. His fingers brush Calintz's bare shoulder. "If I grow tired of toying with you."

"I'm your helpless captive now?" Calintz asks, as Agreian unbuckles his heavy armor sleeve and sets it aside with Calintz's sword.

"I like the sound of that," Agreian says. "No matter how unlikely it seems." He leans in, and Calintz holds still to allow himself to be kissed.

Agreian's mouth is warm, soft lips and seeking tongue, and he reaches up after a moment to slide the pheasant-feather combs from Calintz's hair, so it falls loose down to Calintz's shoulders. Agreian tosses the combs aside and runs his fingers through Calintz's hair, massaging Calintz's scalp slowly.

This is, Calintz decides, a very pleasant sort of captivity. He leans into the kiss, his tongue teasing Agreian's, and his hands flex -- he'd like to be touching, too, like to pull Agreian closer, but he can wait, can let this game play out first.

Agreian pulls back, smiling. "That's a good look for you, my captive," he says. He runs his hands down Calintz's chest, spreading them across the flat plane of Calintz's stomach and then reaching for the laces at the sides of Calintz's tabard. The laces come undone easily at his touch, and he slips his hands up underneath.

"Should I protest?" Calintz asks, arching his back as Agreian's fingers find his nipples and circle them slowly. "Tell you, ah, that you'll never get away with this?"

Agreian's smile broadens. "Won't I?" he asks, dropping his hands to Calintz's hips and pushing, steering Calintz backward. "Why not?"

Calintz takes careful steps, until the backs of his thighs hit his overstuffed chair. "My friends will come for me," he says. He tries to keep a straight face. "General Agreian will come for me."

"Not until it's far too late," Agreian says. "Surrender, and I'll make this easy on you." He pushes Calintz down into the chair, nudges his thighs apart, and kneels between them.

"Never," Calintz breathes, as Agreian pulls the lacings of his tabard entirely free. It's going to take him the better part of an hour to put his clothes back together later on. "I'll never surrender." His breath catches in his throat when Agreian reaches down and gently removes one of his sandals, setting it aside carefully and then using one of Calintz's tabard laces to lash his ankle to the leg of the chair. Agreian repeats the process on the other side, watching Calintz's face, his eyes gone dark with hunger.

"If you won't give in willingly," he murmurs, running his hands up Calintz's spread legs, "then I'll have to force you." He unfastens the hidden hooks and buttons that hold Calintz's pants in place, and folds soft fabric back to bare Calintz's cock.

Calintz shivers, pushing into the touch as Agreian's fingertips brush his shaft. "I know I'm supposed to tell you to stop now," he says, "but I'm not sure I can bring myself to do it."

Agreian strokes him slowly -- too slowly, so that he'll rock his hips and try to get more. "You could always try to bear it stoically," he suggests. "That's the other traditional option."

"Do your worst, you fiend," Calintz says, bracing himself on his hands so he can thrust harder. Agreian smiles, laying an arm across Calintz's hips to hold him down, and licks his lips.

"You'll regret your defiance," he says, his smile teasing. He leans down, his breath warm against the head of Calintz's cock, and pauses there, while Calintz squirms against the cords that bind him and the pressure of Agreian holding him down. Calintz bites his lip, trying to keep silent, trying to keep himself from _asking_ for this -- and then he feels Agreian's lips part around the head of his cock, and he moans.

Calintz looks down -- Agreian's face is hidden behind the silvery fall of his hair, but the set of his shoulders is relaxed and comfortable, and his throat opens smoothly to take Calintz in. He keeps his strokes slow, almost languid, like he knows all too well that Calintz has been making do for weeks with furtive, rushed jerking off on those rare nights when there was any privacy to be found at all. This is as little like that as possible, slow and wet and luxurious, each stroke of Agreian's tongue more maddening than the last. Calintz can't keep silent, not entirely, but he manages not to beg, shaking and rocking his hips and making harsh little moans -- just a little faster, a little deeper, a little harder, and he'd -- he'd -- and then it's enough just like this, steady and slow, and bright heat sparks through him like the breath of a fire talisman as he comes.

Agreian releases him, and sits back, smiling. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed, and he looks Calintz up and down appreciatively. "You certainly look the part of a ravished captive," he says.

"Do I?" Calintz asks. He squirms again, showing off, watching the way Agreian's breath catches. "I'd better hope my good friend the general comes to rescue me soon, then."

"Mmm." Agreian's hands encircle his ankles, holding onto him loosely. "Would you be grateful?"

Calintz smiles, spreading his thighs a little further than his bondage requires. "If he would only free me from captivity," he offers, "I'd show him my gratitude all night long."


End file.
